"Your friend calling for you again, Bobs--by appointment?" Worth's question drew the lawyer's glance, and he stared at them apparently a good deal taken aback, while Worth added, "Seems to keep pretty close tab on your movements." The low tone might have been considered joking, but there was war in the boy's eye. It was as though Cummings answered the challenge, rather than opened with what he had intended. "My business is with you, Gilbert." He came in and shut the door behind him, leaving his hand on the knob. "And I've been some time finding you." He stopped there, and was so long about getting anything else out that Worth finally suggested, "The money?" And when there was no reply but a surprised look, "How do you stand now?" "Still seventy-two thousand to raise." Cummings spoke vaguely. This was not what had brought him to the office. He finished with the abrupt question, "Were you at Santa Ysobel last night?" "Hold on, Cummings," I broke in. "What you got? Let us--" I was shut off there by Worth's, "It's Sunday afternoon. I want that money to-morrow morning. You've not come through? You've not dug up what I sent you after?" I could see that the lawyer was absolutely nonplussed. Again he gave Worth one of those queer, probing looks before he said doggedly, "The question of that money can wait." "It can't wait." Worth's eyes began to light up. "What you talking, Cummings--an extension?" And when the lawyer made no answer to this, "I'll not crawl in with a broken leg asking favors of that bank crowd. Are you quitting on me? If so, say it--and I'll find a way to raise the sum, myself." "I've raised all but seventy-two thousand of the necessary amount," said Cummings slowly. "What I want to know is--how much have you raised?" "See here, Cummings," again I mixed in. "I was present when that arrangement was made. Nothing was said about Worth raising any money." Cummings barely glanced around at me as he said, "I made a suggestion to him; in your presence, as you say, Boyne. I want to know if he carried it out." Then, giving his full attention to Worth, "Did you see your father last night?" On instinct I blurted, "For heaven's sake, keep your mouth shut, Worth!" For a detective that certainly was an incautious speech. Cummings' eye flared suspicion at me, and his voice was a menace. "You keep out of this, Boyne." "You tell what's up your sleeve, Cummings," I countered. "This is no witness-stand cross-examination. What you got?" But Worth answered for him, hotly, "If Cummings hasn't seventy-two thousand dollars I commissioned him to raise for me, I don't care what he's got."